Mindsight (16 page)

Or someone who’d followed my trial and knew I was out; someone who thought my sentence was too light?

None of it seemed to make sense, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the other things that had happened: the shower, that open window I was sure I’d closed. Surely they couldn’t be connected?

When I finally slept, my dreams were full of sound; ringing phones that turned into ambulance sirens. Screaming that went on and on amid the roar of flames. But along with the sound there was, as always, light. Lights spinning on the roofs of ambulances or beaming from headlights. Light that seared my eyes as it flashed out of the darkness.

Stella was out most of the morning, organising the flowers for a couple of weddings, and I was glad to be on my own. Selfishly, I was glad that the weather was cool today, with dark clouds threatening rain. At lunchtime I called Emily to ask if I could come and see her tomorrow or the day after. She was out, but I left a message and she texted back after ten minutes:

Come tomorrow PLEASE. Can’t wait any longer XXX

By the time Stella got back the shop was quiet and I insisted she have a rest upstairs. I promised to call if I needed her, and she took me at my word.

By five-ish, with only a single customer in the past hour, and the rain steady enough to deter casual shoppers, the effects of another disturbed night had begun to bite with a vengeance. I called Stella to say I was locking up, and I left without waiting for a reply, dashing down the street with my cardigan over my head. Even so, by the time I stood shivering at the main door, my feet were cold and slimy in their sandals, my trousers clinging like wet leaves to my legs.

I’d just got the key into the lock when pounding feet behind me told me it was too late.

‘Hello, Kieran. Can’t stop. I’m soaked.’

As I stood at my own door however, he touched my shoulder. ‘You’ve got some post.’ He handed me a letter from the hall table. It was from Lorna.

‘Thanks.’ I began opening my door, but Kieran was not moving.

‘I’ll give you a chance to get changed and see you shortly. Just want a quick word.’ He was heading upstairs before I could say anything.

I threw the letter onto the sofa and grabbed a towel from the bathroom, rubbing my hair and stripping off my clothes. But as soon as I’d dressed again in jeans and T-shirt I had to open it.

Dearest
Clare,

I am very sorry that finding out about myself and your father has upset you so much. There were many, many times in the past when I thought of telling you the truth, but it wasn’t only my secret. Robert would never have forgiven me for speaking about it when he was alive. I expect he’d have called it the revenge of a woman scorned, and maybe it would have been. Later, when he was dead, you had so many other things to cope with that I honestly didn’t think it was important.

These must sound like pathetic excuses, so I won’t say anymore. Except, and this is what I desperately want you to believe, Clare, I do love you and I want to help you in any way I can.

Please, my dearest girl, forgive me and call me when you feel able to talk.

Your very loving fairy godmother,

Lorna

I crunched the paper against my chest, thinking of all the other letters Lorna had sent me over the years and how much they had meant to me. Without her, there were times when my life would have been unbearable. I wanted nothing more than to ring her right now, but I wasn’t ready yet, scared I’d say the wrong thing and upset her.

The silence all around me felt like a malevolent presence, filling every corner of the flat. Outside my double-locked windows there was only the grey of the silent rain and sea. Inside, it was chill and comfortless, and I wondered why I’d ever thought of this place as a refuge.

Maybe that was why, when Kieran knocked, I didn’t make an excuse and get rid of him as I’d planned, but offered him coffee. The flat seemed just a bit more homely with him sitting at the kitchen table, mug in hand, smiling at me.

‘I’ve come to apologise,’ he said. ‘Just hadn’t thought how wrong it was to bring Tom to the shop like that. I could see you were furious and I don’t blame you. I suppose people like me, without kids, are a bit thick about the stranger danger thing.’

I didn’t tell him it hadn’t occurred to me either, until later, and what he’d interpreted as fury was really shock that he and Tom had met, that I would have to give him an explanation. ‘You probably wonder why my son isn’t living with me.’

‘Clare, it’s none of my business.’

‘I’m a widow you see and, well, it’s taken me a long while to get over it. I was living away and it just seemed easier if he stayed with my sister.’

It all sounded very hollow to my ears, but, as he said, it was nothing to do with him and there was no reason to care what he thought.

He flashed me a smile. ‘Of course, the problem wouldn’t have arisen if we’d got to know each other better. Now how about fixing that, and letting me apologise properly by taking you for a meal?’

I told myself it was because I was too tired to argue that I followed him so meekly a few hundred yards to a pub he claimed did great food. The place was small, dark, and nearly empty. Kieran had insisted on buying the drinks and I asked for tonic water because it was important to keep my wits about me.

I knew I needed to get him talking about himself, to avoid any questions about my life and my strange mothering style, so I launched in right away. ‘You’re not local are you? Your name’s Irish, but your accent sounds as if it’s from the north of England.’

It was clumsy, but he didn’t seem to notice. ‘I’m from Lancaster, but my mother’s family do have some Irish blood, I think. At least, they’re Catholic, which usually means they came over during the potato famine.’ I sipped my drink and sat back, hoping my smiles and nods would encourage him to keep talking. ‘But Dad was from India by way of Kenya, so the black hair isn’t Celtic and the tan doesn’t come off in the winter. By rights, too, I think they should have spelt the name K-I-R-A-N.’

The bar man brought our food and for a moment there was silence, but I spoke before he could start to question me. ‘So Catholic and, what, Sikh? That must have made an interesting mix.’

‘Hindu – no turbans or gurus – but they were both pretty flexible in their approach to religion. They only had two kids, and Dad enjoyed a nice roast on Sundays and the odd pint. And, in fact, I’ve always thought the religions are rather alike: all the little figures of Hindu gods and the Catholic statues of saints, the shrines, the candles, the flowers.’

‘So you’re not religious yourself?’

‘How did you guess? If I had to choose it would be Hinduism. Much more relaxed about sex, for instance. Some of the stories about Krishna are pretty racy.’

I knew I was blushing, and I could have sworn he noticed and had enjoyed making it happen. I looked down at my plate and forced in a mouthful of food, all too aware he was still looking at me with a slight smile. This was where the questions would come, and I braced myself to take care. But he let me off lightly. ‘How’s the food. Was I right about it?’

It was some kind of casserole, but I could hardly taste it. I nodded and gulped some of my drink. ‘Yes it’s very good. So Nic said you’re a photographer. Do you do a lot of advertising work?’

‘Just enough to keep the wolf from the door. The truth is I’m down here recovering from a bit of a breakdown. I got to thirty and decided I should try to earn bit more, you know, become a respectable member of society.’

So he was probably about my age.
Why the hell was I thinking that?
I felt a flush rise in my cheeks again as if he could read my thoughts and forced myself to listen to what he was saying.

‘ … foolishly got into the management side and found boardroom politics were just too cut-throat for me, couldn’t cope.’ The greenish eyes were suddenly intent. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this.’

‘A breakdown’s nothing to be ashamed of.’ I felt oddly flattered by his confession.

‘It wasn’t very dramatic anyway. Just couldn’t get out of bed in the morning, but it lasted for days. Then, when I finally got in the car to go to work, I found myself driving down here instead and never went back.’

‘Will you eventually, do you think?’

‘Oh, no. I’m poorer, but so much happier. I only work freelance for a few agencies, where I have friends. Apart from that I’m hawking my own stuff around the galleries and trying to do a book.’

‘I used to love taking photos.’ I could have bitten my tongue.

‘And what about now?’

‘Oh, I don’t anymore.’

‘Not even of your son?’

I think I blustered something about that not counting, but it didn’t convince even me. I stood up, saying I needed the loo, knocking into the table and managing to spill the dregs of my drink in the process.

In the toilet, I washed my hands and stared into the mirror. My face was flushed and there were shadows under my eyes, but I looked OK; the turmoil inside certainly didn’t show. I had been tempted, just then, to start talking about Tom and I knew I mustn’t do that because it would inevitably lead to more – to Toby and Steve and God knows what else.

Kieran had bought more drinks when I got back to the table. ‘I really ought to go. I’ve got a long journey in the morning.’
Why did you say that, you idiot.

‘Oh, where to?’

‘Cumbria, visiting my cousin.’

‘Oh, my neck of the woods. It’s gorgeous up there when the sun shines, isn’t it.’

I nodded, sipping my drink and hoping to shut down the conversation.

He did it for me, talking about how helpful Nic had been since he moved in. ‘She’s local, so anything you want to know she’s your girl.’

Our glasses were empty and I pulled on my jacket. ‘Yes, she seems like a lovely person.’

Thank goodness he was quiet as we walked home. I didn’t want to talk, but the thought of my bleak flat slowed my steps. It was dry now, and the hint of a rainbow glimmered on and off amongst the clouds, but the street was still slicked shiny with moisture. As we approached the house, I realised I must say something.

‘Thank you for the meal. I was much too tired to cook.’

‘Still haven’t been sleeping well?’

Damn, damn. When did I tell him that
? ‘Not brilliantly, no.’

‘It’s these short nights. You should put up heavy curtains. I replaced mine as soon as I moved in.’

I didn’t say I had no trouble sleeping in the daytime; in fact I struggled to keep awake. With his own history of mental problems he would know what that meant.

When we got to our front door, I had my keys ready and unlocked it before he had time to take charge, but at my own flat, I felt his hands on my shoulders, turning me to face him; those green-flecked eyes staring down at me. And I could do nothing.

‘Clare, I won’t be so crude as to ask to come in for coffee, because we both know that’s not what I want.’ I could feel the warmth through his shirt and was suddenly tempted to lay my head against his chest. ‘But may I do this?’ He clearly didn’t expect a reply and I couldn’t have given one anyway. Instead I raised my face and we kissed. It was a long kiss, gentle and warm.

Then he pulled back and looked into my eyes. I knew I should say something, move away, but it was Kieran who did so in the end. ‘Thank you Clare. Goodnight.’

I watched him head up to his flat, but twisted quickly away when he reached the turn in the stairs.

Chapter Fourteen

When I came to after the accident I knew my name, but little else. I opened my eyes to a vase of red flowers, a fly buzzing at the window, a pale light, and someone coughing nearby.

I think I croaked something, and a curt voice told me, ‘You’ve been in an accident. Lie still and rest. Doctor will be in to see you soon.’

I thought, of course, that it was just me. Didn’t even remember Toby, and Steve, and Dad. Everything hurt, and my head felt as if it was full of something soft and jelly-like that, if I moved too quickly, might seep out of my ears and eyes. So I lay still, trying not to think like that, not to think at all: to cling on to life and sanity.

Because I wanted to live then, even though I knew nothing except I was Clare, and this was a cool bed in a hospital room, with red flowers on a bedside table, a fly buzzing, a pale, painful light, and someone coughing – no, crying – nearby.

Then came the moment when I heard a child laugh and thought –
Toby and Tommy.
Just like that I remembered I had two sons.
And Steve.
I knew I hadn’t seen them and I couldn’t think why. Was I too ill, too horrible to look at?

The next day I was more clear-headed, and I knew something was very wrong. I asked again and again, and finally the nurse, who’d been ignoring me as she pulled the sheets tight and pushed and dragged at my pillow, sighed. ‘Your sister will be here later. She’ll talk to you then I expect.’ And I thought,
well then, it must be all right, or she wouldn’t be so sharp with me
.

Later, in prison, when I first understood and accepted my guilt, I felt so bloated and swollen with it that I thought there would be no room inside me for anything else. But I was wrong. First, there was Ruby, bringing me comfort and even a few happy moments that I allowed myself to enjoy because without them I couldn’t have gone on. Now there was Tommy, and that was far more than I could have hoped for.

Kieran was something different, and I certainly had no right to the kind of thrill I’d felt when he kissed me, the ease of talking to him, the pleasure at seeing his eyes crease with a smile and his hand holding a glass. I touched my lips. There had been times when I could recall Steve’s kisses so vividly that I could still feel them, but not today.

Watching the sun setting over the sea, I tried not to hear Kieran moving overhead. So close. I knew he was walking across to his window and looking at the same view.